“It’s almost the end. I don’t want it to end. It’s almost the end.” Stephen Malkmus was his usual enigmatic self on Thursday,  September 23rd at Central Park Summer Stage, Pavement’s third in their four-night run at the venue. Though these were the first reunion gigs announced a year ago, they also fell awfully close to the tour’s end (the Quarantine the Past tour wound down September 30th in Hollywood). It’s hard not to notice a mix of regret and relief among the band members who, for perhaps the first time in their careers, look comfortable playing together, having polished Malkmus et al’s indie pop to a fine showroom luster — after more than six months of non-stop globe-trotting, before audiences larger than those seen in their prime on 1994’s Lollapalooza tour (better yet, this time around they were the main attraction, not the band for whom you got drunk in the parking lot while waiting for Stone Temple Pilots to come on).

Though under-appreciated in their original tenure, Pavement returned tonight as conquering heroes, the influential darlings of the indie world. The legend, once kept like a secret, has now spread like wildfire.

You won’t see Stephen Malkmus on any magazine covers, at least not for the time being. The band appears to be eschewing press coverage during the tour. Sure, there was the appearance on “The Colbert Report,” but that’s almost more of a wink and a nod to their audience overlap. Let’s not kid ourselves, Pavement could have called this the Cash Grab ’10 tour, and we still would have come out in force.

As a longtime (12-plus years) Pavement fan, coming late to them in the twilight of their career, I had the privilege of catching their last Boston show at the Roxy in support of their last album, Terror Twilight (1999). That night, the Boston fans ripped the opening act to the point that when Pavement finally took the stage, Malkmus chastised the audience for their disrespect and general narrow-mindedness. He proceeded to play every guitar solo with his back turned to the audience — this grudge would continue through his debut gig with the Jicks at the Middle East downstairs, where he also played with his back turned. (He’d finally face the audience at the Paradise Rock Club in 2003 on the Pig Lib tour.) In short, the vibes were bad, but those of you who’ve read Rob Jovanovic’s excellent band bio, Perfect Sound Forever, know that Malkmus was becoming increasingly alienated from the band at that time. Drummer Steve West is quoted in the book as saying, “Stephen was in such a bad mood that we would stop at rest stops and he’d do this thing where he would put his coat over his head and wouldn’t talk to anyone the whole way to the gig.” There was never even an official press release marking the dissolution of Pavement, only an alteration to Pavement’s website indicating the band was no longer.

The vibes were much more kind tonight. One couldn’t help but notice the audience’s reverence, singing along to nearly every song. Pavement began the set with crowd pleaser “Kennel District” from 1995’s Wowee Zowee, then proceeded to cherry-pick favorites from a never-ending Santa sack of slay tracks. Let it be noted, faces were melted, the reviewer’s included. This was the second show of theirs I had seen on this tour, the first being at Agannis Arena in Boston, and, no offense to Beantown, but Gotham had a more lively, engaged audience (did I hear someone request “Kris Kraft” last night?) and were rewarded with a superior set that included long-time classics like “Box Elder” and “Shady Lane,” for which Boston was shorted.

Tonight, Malkmus was in rare form, bantering with the crowd at length, a welcome digression. As a prelude to their one radio-friendly hit from 1994’s Crooked Rain, Crooked Rain, “Cut Your Hair,” he revealed that the song’s royalties allowed him to upgrade from a studio to an apartment with an actual bedroom, after “carrying two little sacks of money to the bank.” He also turned socially conscious, albeit ironically, issuing warnings against drunk driving and imploring the crowd to recycle their empties (this advice went largely unheeded as men with industrial leaf blowers came out after the show, blowing thousands of empty cans into more manageable clumps). It did not take him long to lapse back into his aloof self-awareness though: “What am I doing? I need to stop talking now.”

Tonight under the stars in the park, you felt like Pavement was playing your backyard barbeque. Stops were pulled out. I lost count after the sixth song in their encore; there very well could have been more. They closed with “Box Elder” but the hits came so steadily, one after another, that it was hard to keep them all straight. Set highlights included “Frontwards,” “Summer Babe,” “In the Mouth of a Desert,” “Gold Soundz,” and “We Dance.” Percussionist and hype man Bob Nastanovich took over lead vocals for “Two States” and “Fight this Generation.” Spiral Stairs led “Date with Ikea,” but, alas, no “Mussel Rock (is a horse in transition).” Malkmus, dressed in loose-fitting white button-down and blue jeans looked cool as a cucumber with a hazy golden aura surrounding him all night long.

Pavement does not show their age. In fact, the past 10 years seems to have helped the band mature.  Malkmus’s vocal delivery has never been so self-assured, nor has he showed such range. Better yet, Pavement now have a distinct sense of their strengths, expanding their compositions to a breaking point, then reeling them back in, keeping the audience on a string. Pavement’s performance was all about tension, release, and calm. They fed the crowd a steady diet of rockers, then balanced them out with a healthy dose of slower numbers.

I can’t help but wonder while watching these merry pranksters why Stephen Malkmus continues to elude me. Even as I sing along, I realize these songs make no literal sense, but operate on such a primal emotional level. Perhaps its this ineffable quality that lends Pavement their magic. Sometimes we have to give ourselves over completely to a band, trust their judgment, let them lead us around, be it by the nose or the hand, and follow them down whatever path they wish to take us.

At both Boston and New York City shows, as a prelude to coming on stage, the house PA played pre-recorded music that sounded very much like Pavement, only they weren’t songs I could identify, which can’t help but lead to idle speculation: could it be, Pavement has been working on a new album, or is it all just an elaborate ruse? The fact that they played different song sketches/excerpts before each gig only adds gas to the fire. It might also help explain the group’s relative silence to the press. Never being one to tip their hand, one can’t help but wonder whether while standing in the wings, they are gauging audience interest in the new material. I admit readily: I will buy anything Pavement puts out.

From the looks of tonight’s crowd, I am not alone. The place was packed, with the elders at the back, the newcomers jammed at the front of the stage, and as clouds of sensimillia smoke wafted over the crowd, the vibe maintained a mellow groove. The harvest moon arose in the eastern sky as Pavement took the stage and blazed a trail across the night. Yes, these boys from central-northern California may be wrapping up this tour, but you can’t help but believe they won’t go quietly.